


Just a Kiss of Your Lips in the Moonlight

by AlyKat



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Road Trips, can't malcolm and trip have any normal good shore leaves?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:33:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8165309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat
Summary: Trip and Malcolm just can't seem to have a smooth shore leave adventure...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if this fic will ever even get read, I am pretty late to the party here, but I was recently on my own road trip and the idea for the dialog in this wouldn't leave me alone. I quickly typed it up and put it up on Tumblr, admitting that I'd probably never do anything with it, but...well...this happened last night. It's my first time writing for this fandom, and this pairing, so I hope I did them justice. Please be gentle with me.

The sun had long since set behind the expanse of cornfields, leaving the world wrapped in the peaceful stillness of night. With the stars and moon shining bright in the sky above them, any seasoned Starfleet officer should have no trouble finding their way in the unfamiliar territory of the strange and foreign land known as middle-America. _Should_  being the keyword.

And two such officers wouldn’t have had any problems, really, if Commander Charles “Trip” Tucker III hadn’t _insisted_  that he’d be fine without directions, if his companion, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, wanted to catch a bit of sleep while they made their way from one coast of the United States to the other.

But no. Trip had insisted. _Insisted_.

” _Malcolm, I’m tellin’ you. Get some damn sleep, already. I’ll be fine! How hard can it be? We stay on this road for a few miles, take a left, pick up the next highway. It’s nothin’ I can’t handle! Get. Some. Sleep._ ”

Oh, he handled it alright. Handled them right onto a God forsaken gravel back road in the middle of absolute nothingness. In the middle of the night. It was the fourth or fifth crater in the road – a road determined to devour their rental car – that had Malcolm bolting awake in his seat to look around in confusion. And really, how much more ridiculous could that be? A true _car_! Honest to God, drove on wheels, on the ground, required fuel, antique car! When there were plenty of other perfectly good forms of transportation they could have taken! Just yet another thing Trip had _insisted_  was a necessity for a traditional road trip. Though, Malcolm had to admit, he was enthralled by the car’s beauty when he first laid eyes on it. A sea foam green, 2005 Ford Thunderbird that screamed down the highways _quite_  nicely…

That was besides the point, though. The point was, they were lost. Hopelessly lost! And Commander Tucker couldn’t be the least bit bothered by that, while Malcolm could do nothing but seethe over their predicament.

“It’s _called_ a _road trip_ , Malcolm.” For what had to be the hundredth time, Trip sighed heavily, his head tilted back to stare up at the stars: distant suns in systems that the _Enterprise_ was set to go explore and study. Rolling his head against the back of his seat, he stared Malcolm down. “They’re not suppose'ta have a purpose. You’re just s’posed to get in your car an’ drive. Which is what we did.”

The argument had been going on since the moment Malcolm woke up and realized they were lost. A good two hours ago. Frankly, it was getting a bit old.

Malcolm rolled his eyes, tossing his hands up in frustration as he slouched back into the corner where door met seat. “Well, that’s just bloody ridiculous!” He groused, letting his arms fall over his chest. Shifting and turning a bit, he leveled Trip with a glare of his own. “I suppose being lost in the middle of nowhere is all part of the _experience_ , as well then?”

If sarcasm were a syrup, Trip could have poured Malcolm’s tone over his pancakes in the morning.

Instead, Trip shrugged nonchalantly as he answered, “Well, yeah! Of course it is!”

Someday, he was going to learn not to be so honest. Especially when it came to dealing with an aggravated Lieutenant Reed. Trip was just thankful that Malcolm hadn’t decided to carry his phase pistol with him while they drove, otherwise Trip’s family would have been getting a letter:

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Tucker,_

_I regret to inform you that your son, Charles Tucker III, was shot and killed by our pissed off armory officer. Trip and Lieutenant Reed had decided to spend their shore leave taking an old fashioned road trip from coast to coast, whereupon Lieutenant Reed killed Trip after Trip got them lost in the middle of nowhere…_

_Trip kinda had it coming. A few times over. Sorry for your loss._

Malcolm scoffed and sighed in disgust, his attention turned back out to the darkness surrounding them. “I still don’t know why we couldn’t bring a padd with us. That antiquated paper map is useless out here! Will you just call Hoshi? Surely she can get a lock on us and they can–”

“What? No!” Trip sat himself up straighter and turned in his seat, right knee on the cushion. “Darlin’, we’re _explorers_! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Slowly, so very slowly, Malcolm quirked a brow and cocked his head suggestively. “Last time I was  _adventurous_  with you, we had to have a very awkward conversation with Dr. Phlox I’d rather not repeat. Ever.”

Trip’s eyes narrowed, the crystalline blue color turning polar cold. Lips pressed in a tight line, he dared to raise a finger, jabbing it in the air towards Malcolm. “This ain’t even remotely close to that, an’ you know it. Although…” His words trailed off, eyes opening fully again as a sly smirk began smoothing out his features.

Malcolm, for all his bravery on the bridge, and in the face of certain death, squirmed under the look he was suddenly pinned with. “Although…what?”

Shrugging a bit again, Trip dropped his gaze to the space between them while his smirk took on a more charming, boyish, shy aspect. The damn console was in his way, but that didn’t keep him from reaching across their seats to let his fingers tangle in the soft, thick waves of Malcolm’s sable hair. Right at the base of his spine, where it was short and silky and Trip could drag his dull nails over the sensitive skin just so. “Nothin’,” he finally murmured, lifting his eyes to look out from under his lashes. “It’s just…there’s advantages to bein’ lost an’ outta gas out here in the middle of nowhere…”

Let it never be said that Malcolm – the only son of Stuart and Mary Reed – wasn’t a stoic and professional military man. Despite the shiver that ran down his spine at Trip’s touch, his voice never wavered once as he said, “Trip. No.”

“No, what?” Trip slid himself as close to Malcolm as he could with that console in his way, his right hand still playing with the soft tendrils he could gasp, while his left hand slowly slid from Malcolm’s knee, up his thigh. “I didn’t say anythin’…”

A quiet whine escaped Malcolm, his eyes fluttering as he found himself being pulled gently towards Trip. Okay, so Malcolm was only mostly stoic and professional military man. There was only so much he could stand! Still, he tried valiantly to resist, even as goosebumps ran down his arms and blood began rushing south.

“You have that _look_ …” he managed to murmur before warm breath was breezing across his ear gently.

“An’ what look’s that, love, hmm?”

The stars were beginning to look strange the more Malcolm slowly slipped lower in his seat. “The look,” he started, needing to take a steadying breath before he could continue, “that usually finds me trapped in a suddenly malfunctioning turbolift with your tongue halfway down my throat.”

Damn that stupid console for being in the way! Crawling into Malcolm’s personal space and getting his teeth against Malcolm’s neck and ear would be a lot easier without that damn thing being there! Trip shifted and scooted a bit, his right hand tightening at the back of Malcolm’s neck while the left slid all the higher again on his leg. The tip of his tongue flicked out across Malcolm’s ear as Trip huffed a short laugh before moving in to nuzzle at the other’s neck.

“Those turbolifts are damn tricky,” murmured Trip. “Gotta work on ‘em one of these days.”

Malcolm groaned as Trip’s accent thickened, the way it always would when he was being quiet and seductive. When he started nuzzling and nipping along Malcolm’s neck and jaw, that’s when Malcolm felt the last of his resistance snap. What had those cyborgs said? ‘ _Resistance is futile_ ’? They were clearly right. At least when it came to Trip Tucker. There was no resisting him when he got that look in his eyes.

Utterly defeated, Malcolm lulled his head to the side, granting Trip better access to more of his neck, and let his eyes fall shut. “Oh, I bloody well hate you…” he grumbled, though his voice was full of fond affection.

Beside him – very nearly perched on the console, thank you very much – Trip grinned against Malcolm’s neck. The tip of his tongue followed the prominent cord in his partner’s neck until he could nuzzle at Malcolm’s ear again gently. “Mm, ah love you, too, darlin’…”

There were maybe a few advantages to being lost and stranded in the middle of nowhere, though Malcolm couldn’t think of many. And the ones he did come up with, all involved the man sitting beside him (or on his lap) and said man’s talented fingers and tongue. Maybe the old fashioned road trip wasn’t as ridiculous as he’d originally thought.


End file.
